Keris Stainton‘s weekly column on married life…
I am not a high maintenance woman. I can shower in ten minutes, do my make-up in two, get dressed in between five and, say, 25 minutes, depending on how I feel about my weight (“I’ve got nothing to wear! Nothing! I can’t go!”).
Once I am dressed and ready to go, all I want is a kind word from my husband. A “you look good” is good. A “you look great” would be better. A “you look gorgeous/sexy/fantastic” would be amazing, but I have to accept it’s never going to happen. And, no, I don’t accept that I never do look gorgeous/sexy/fantastic because a) sometimes I think I do and b) even if I don’t, couldn’t he just say I do? Well apparently not.
A few months ago I’d bought myself a new outfit. One of those short-ish, Jane Austen bodicey, jersey dress thingies along with patterned tights (to wear with boots). I put the outfit on – ready to go out on the town – and said to David, “How do I look?”
David: Are they boots?
Me: So does it look alright?
David: Yeah, apart from your blotchy face.
Me: Why’s my face blotchy?
Me: (running to the mirror and realising it’ll just be from the hot shower I’ve just had) It’s because of the shower. So …?
David (still looking at my face): You look nice.
Me: Not my face!
Me: (gesturing at outfit) Does it look awful?
Me (walking over to the mirror): Is it too short?
David: A bit of your bra’s sticking out.
Me: I know. It’s supposed to be.
David (losing patience): You look nice!
Me: Nice. Great.
David: God! (storms off)
Almost eleven years of marriage. How can he not know that “nice” is never the right answer?